


Rise from Starless Waters

by saisei



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Clothing Porn, Dressing, M/M, Nonnies Made Me Do It, of a sort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-05
Updated: 2018-03-05
Packaged: 2019-03-27 10:07:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13878651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saisei/pseuds/saisei
Summary: Waking up early for once, Noct has the rare chance to observe Ignis' morning ritual.





	Rise from Starless Waters

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted here: https://fail-fandomanon.dreamwidth.org/303698.html?thread=1727620690#cmt1727620690

Noct doesn't know what wakes him; outside the hotel window it's still dark, and he can feel sleep trying to pull him under. But when he opens his eyes he sees Ignis in the crack of light from the bathroom, damp hair held back from his face by what looks like a headband and a towel tucked modestly around around his hips even though everyone's sleeping, more or less.

In high school Noct had been obsessed for months ( _years_ ) with seeing primly-buttoned-up Ignis naked, and now they bathe together in rivers and stuff. But he's always slept through _this_ , and he's riveted.

Ignis pulls on his undershirt, tugging as it catches on the damp skin of his back, and then removes the towel, folding it before stepping into his shorts. They look black in the light but Noct knows, from too many laundry days at camp, that they're actually a deep purple and made of a soft, stretchy fabric that – knowing Ignis – cost a small fortune. Ignis adjusts himself and then tucks his undershirt in meticulously, smoothing out wrinkles and rolling his shoulders back. When he turns just right, Noct can clearly make out his nipples, somehow more titillating (ha, Ignis would love that one) for being partly obscured.

Socks are next, clipped into garters (which Prompto had boggled at, insisting that Ignis was the most extra person he knew; in Noct's recollection, Ignis had taken that as a compliment), and then trousers. The Crownsguard tailors, out of necessity, made their uniforms from material that stretches in a fight instead of ripping; Noct had his trousers made loose anyway, but Ignis chose to show off his assets, playing up his long legs. Today he's gone for the trousers with the wide leather strip down the side seam that pull the eye all the way down (and back up again). In Noct's opinion they're a bit _too_ long, the hems just skimming the floor when Ignis is shoeless, but he admits that might just be envy talking. One of his few childhood ambitions was to be as tall as Ignis, and look how that turned out.

Ignis lets his trousers hang perilously off his hips while he pulls his shirt on. He folds the sleeves up over his elbows, the yellowish light making the fabric look almost like an actual coerl pelt. Noct thinks it'd be soft and warm if he petted it. He wonders if Ignis would purr, or savage him – probably the latter, he decides, watching Ignis do his buttons from the top down, leaving the first two defiantly undone: spending his childhood in suits and ties has made him a fashion rebel. No one else Noct knows could pull off leather and animal print like Ignis does, even if the tailors have done their best to tone the shirt down with distracting lines of silver studs along the collar and by embroidering on as many protective skulls-of-the-ancestors as they could get away with.

The shirt is smoothed down as Ignis hitches his trousers up and fastens them, doing a quick feel around his waist to make sure everything's just as he wants it before buckling his belt, fingering the skull there for a moment before reaching up to cover his mouth as he yawns. Noct nearly gives himself away by smiling; he loves catching these moments when Ignis isn't quite as perfect as he wishes to appear.

Ignis cracks his shoulders back again, and then his neck, and finally pads over to the dresser to put on his glasses and fasten the chain of his necklace so the skull settles at the base of his throat. Noct's not sure that the superstition of wearing their prayers actually summons any kind of good luck, but he guesses it can't hurt. He wants the people he cares for to stay safe. Ancestors willing and all that.

Ignis turns and takes a step toward the bathroom, and then pauses, his head snapping to the side to stare right at Noct, who to be honest is still mostly asleep and certainly not capable of deception. Their eyes meet, and Ignis holds his gaze for an uncomfortably long moment. Noct can't read his expression at all, or whether Ignis' cheeks flush the way his own do; finally, Ignis reaches up to adjust his glasses, one finger nudging them up his nose, and then he's gone, slipped into the bathroom and the door silently shut.

In the darkened room, Noct closes his eyes. He can see Ignis in his mind's eye, dressing for him, and he smiles. Maybe things will be awkward in the morning; as he falls back into the world of dreams, he can't bring himself to care.


End file.
